


Fate Falls Hard On Our Shoulders (But Legends Never Die)

by eruditeprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin are Roommates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruditeprincess/pseuds/eruditeprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke have been roommates. Two days show their feelings.</p><p>Title taken from Live Like Legends by Ruelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate Falls Hard On Our Shoulders (But Legends Never Die)

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. This story had a playlist of Ruelle songs used in Shadowhunters, and the songs were Live Like Legends, This Is The Hunt, War of Hearts, Monsters, Invincible and Storm. I'm sorry I haven't put anything up lately - I have a job and exams and everything has meant I haven't been able to grab my laptop and write for a few months, so biggest apologies for that and I'll try to get stuff up when I can. My tumblr is, as usual, erudite-princess, and I hope you enjoy! If you do, leave a comment or kudos at the bottom!

She strutted in, a form-fitting red dress hugging her figure and a pair of sky-high heels on her feet, and collapsed into the seat across from him. He pushed a coffee and waffle across the table, catching her eye.

“Bad date?” he asked, and she groaned, face in her hands.

“Yeah. Apparently having a male roommate is a deal breaker,” she grumbled, lifting her head up to take a sip of coffee, “As well as being a teacher. That is apparently lame.”

“Well, he’s lame then,” he elicited a chuckle out of her as she dug into the waffle, toeing her shoes off and kicking them over towards the sofa.

“Twelve year old insults, Bellamy? I’m disappointed, frankly. I can’t believe I’d ever go for the guy anyway.”

“Where does he rank? Above or below ‘You can’t be bi, Clarke, you have to pick a side’?”

“That guy was an asshole. Definitely below. He didn’t come up with anything stupid like that,” she bit her lip at the memory. She finished off her waffle and drained the coffee, before getting up from the chair, “I’m going to get changed. Find something for us to watch?”

“Sure,” he grinned and she returned the smile as she picked up her heels and tiptoed into her room, shutting the door behind her. He queued up a supernatural drama series his sister had been raving about, and waited.

 

That was their arrangement; they always adamantly insisted they were roommates, and none of their friends questioned them. As far as both of them were concerned, they were happy.

 

The story of how they came to be roommates was fairly simple; Octavia was moving out of her apartment with Bellamy and Clarke had just broken up with her then-girlfriend Lexa, who she shared an apartment with, so Clarke moved in with Bellamy. Both Clarke and Bellamy were teachers at Ark High, so their situation was convenient for both of them. Clarke’s last art class let out at the same time as Bellamy finished coaching the debate team, so they piled their marking into Clarke’s old Chevy and drove home each night.

 

It was at Octavia’s wedding that things started between them, as far as their friends were concerned. They went as each other’s dates and spent the whole reception dancing with each other, his hands on her waist and her head resting over his heart, gently swaying to the songs playing through the speakers. Her eyes were closed and he swept back a few tendrils of blonde that were escaping her bun, his fingers lingering on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and to everyone at the wedding they looked like a couple. At the end of the night, Bellamy had picked her up as she was starting to fall asleep, and carried her to the car.

 

They were at a local club when Bellamy started to realise something was brewing between them. They had gone in a group with other teachers to celebrate the start of summer break; Raven from Electronics, Monty from Chemistry, Miller from Math and Gina from Sociology had joined the two of them and were chatting as he got them all shots. When Clarke had downed hers, she had taken his hand and pulled him onto the dancefloor, weaving seamlessly through the sea of writhing bodies until she found a spot. The bass of the song thrummed through his veins as Clarke began to twist her body next to his, her blonde hair glittering under the lights and her dress pushing her best assets up enough to attract attention from people around them. Her movements were magnetising, her hips slowly shaking to the beat. She pulled him closer and looked up at him, dark makeup lining her eyes and making the blue seem endless. One of her hands curled into his hair and her fingers twisted through his dark curls, tugging slightly and pulling him down towards her. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek and they danced together, lips a hairsbreadth apart. Bellamy felt a flip-flopping in his stomach as his dark eyes caught her bright ones and he gazed, hypnotised, into her eyes as they flickered between his own and his lips. The song ended and they moved away, somewhat reluctantly, from each other, with Clarke heading over to the bar and Bellamy heading back to the booth. He sat down as Clarke brought back another round of shots, and the night was fuzzy for him after that.

 

For Clarke, her realisation came the next morning as she woke up in Bellamy’s arms, his warmth enveloping her. She snuggled into him and groaned at her pounding head, before she realised her state of dress and squeaked, rousing Bellamy.

“Clarke? What are you doing…” his gravelly, just-woken-up voice trailed off as he realised their state of dress.

“It seems pretty obvious we fucked, but it’s all fuzzy,” she mumbled, and curled up.

“Yeah, it’s fuzzy for me too,” he glanced over at the bin next to the bed, and sighed in relief, “but at least drunk us used protection.”

“At least we did.”

“I’m gonna make pancakes and coffee. D’you want some?” he sat up, grunting, and took his arm out from under Clarke.

“Yeah, please. It feels like someone is playing the drums in my head.”

 

As he walked through the living room towards their kitchen, pulling on a pair of boxers, he saw Clarke’s dress on a potted plant, her bra hanging off of the TV, his boxers atop the bookcase and her panties on a lamp, with his shirt and pants in a pile on the floor beside the sofa. He started preparing the meal, putting the percolator on and mixing the batter. He heard his bedroom door open and saw Clarke emerge, one of his t-shirts swamping her small body and looking like a dress on her. Her makeup was smudged and she had a line of purple bruises down her neck, obviously from him, and her hair was a mess. She slid into the seat at the counter and grabbed the water and aspirin on the side, downing it with a wince. They were silent as he poured the batter into the griddle and started to cook the pancakes. She broke it as she asked him “Will what we just did be a one time thing?”

He paused for a moment, stunned, before he answered.

“I don’t know. Do you want it to?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she bit her lip, and watched as Bellamy placed a pancake on a plate and poured more batter into the griddle.

“Look, Clarke, are you sure?”

“Bellamy, I think people noticed before we did. Maybe we should give something a shot,” she looked him straight in the eye, and he smiled at her.

“We can give this a shot, right? It won’t ruin our friendship?”

“I hope not. We’ve been roommates for three years, Bellamy. It’s not like we’re going all in with someone we don’t know very much.”

 

Their story was always meant to be one of the greats, as far as their friends were concerned. But as far as Bellamy and Clarke were concerned, they were in the right place.


End file.
